


"Private Security"

by i_am_a_hog



Series: Private Security [2]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Bottom!Napoleon, M/M, Napoleon Solo's curls appreciation, Porn, Top!Illya, but yeah it's just sex basically, porn with a bit of kissing beforehand, ridiculously clicheey, ridiculously horny napoleon, this is just
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 10:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18963529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_a_hog/pseuds/i_am_a_hog
Summary: Sequel toPrivate Securitybecause Napoleon was so horny that people asked for a sequel that gave him what he wanted. And this is it.





	"Private Security"

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy ;)

Napoleon was aware that whatever had happened between Kuryakin – Illya – and him was not going to have a positive influence on their working relationship. If it could be called that. It was a matter of safety and even if Illya had handled it brilliantly this one time, Napoleon did not want to risk any further incidents like it.

Of course Napoleon’s sheer overwhelming desire for Illya did not vanish just like that, but it was a start, because the last thing Napoleon needed were actual feelings, like the ones he had experienced that night, picturing Illya’s cheeks flushing and his breath uneven while Napoleon’s fingers wrapped around his own dick. He had come harder and sooner than he was comfortable admitting even to himself but these affectionate feelings were altogether unwanted.

For the next few events, Napoleon made sure to request different Security professionals. Twice, he ended up with a woman what was almost as tall and broad as Napoleon himself, a truly impressive person with the sweetest smile and the sharpest intellect Napoleon had witnessed in a long time. The other time, a man was assigned to him, that was impossibly even bigger and quieter than Illya had been.

Requesting essentially ‘anybody but Mr Kuryakin’ had been awkward, but Napoleon was getting the hang of it. And so was the company, Napoleon hoped.

He was opening his browser when Gaby shouted at him from the kitchen.

“Hey asshole!”

“Hmm?” he replied. She had come over for dinner, but Napoleon needed to finish this, before they could start cooking.

“Where’s your garlic?”

“Top shelf in the overhead cupboard next to the door.”

Napoleon started typing.

**Surname:** _Solo_

**First name:** _Napoleon_

**Type of event:** _Art –_

A loud crash from the kitchen interrupted him.

“Gaby?”

“I’m fine,” she grumbled.

“Really?”

“Why do you have to put garlic of all things on the top shelf? You need that every day!”

Napoleon snorted. “Not all of us are just five foot two, darling.”

Gaby proceeded to swear at Napoleon, so he finished his sentence and sent out the booking before joining her in the kitchen. Mostly to laugh at her.

* * *

 

Three nights later, a limousine pulled up in front of Napoleon’s apartment building. Napoleon was wearing a three-piece suit, perfectly tailored to fit him right in all the right places and he felt good.

And then he felt several things at the same time when the driver’s door opened and a familiar figure stepped out, smoothing down the front of his suit.

Napoleon felt shivers running through him, which he tried to suppress, felt his heart-rate speed up and felt his jaw clench involuntarily. Illya looked exquisite. He had no idea how he was supposed to make it through the evening when he could not even keep it together now.

“Mr Solo,” Illya said, eyes looking right into Napoleon’s soul and he felt like he was melting right there on the steps of the building.

“Illya,” he managed to reply. Somehow he made it into the car.

“I must have…”

“Forgotten to tell them ‘Not Kuryakin please, we made out last time and now I’m in love’?” Illya continued for him and Napoleon blushed – downright _blushed_ – and tried to figure out why his heart was beginning to race even faster at Illya’s words.

“Sort of,” he breathed out and closed his eyes. Illya was talking back at him and it was one of the hottest things Napoleon had ever heard. Just behind the little noise at the back of Illya’s throat when Napoleon had kissed him. Now – in the same situation, perhaps even the same car – Napoleon felt the memory as if it had happened mere seconds ago.

“I can still protect you,” Illya said. He sounded serious now, eyes fixed on the road.

“I know,” Napoleon replied. “It’s just… I don’t know.”

He really did not know. He was afraid of what Illya made him feel and of how that would influence his job.

The rest of the short drive was spent in silence.

They left the car to be parked in the garage; Illya opened the door for Napoleon and suddenly they were face to face, closer than at any time before that night and Napoleon instinctively leaned in for a kiss, but Illya stepped back and when their eyes met, Napoleon saw everything he was holding inside. It was magnificent.

Once inside, Napoleon made a beeline for the toilets.

“Come,” he hissed and pulled Illya into a stall with him. There was no way Illya was unaware of Napoleon’s desires and plans, which made Napoleon all the more reassured in his endeavours. The second he had locked the ridiculously thin door, effectively locking them into a space that was barely big enough for one of them, Napoleon brought his hands up to Illya’s face. Just to touch, to feel the smooth skin, to ruffle the carefully combed back hair. But before Napoleon had even finished that thought, Illya surged forward and closed his lips over Napoleon’s. Instinctively, he responded, letting Illya inside, letting Illya take over, take control while he held on for dear life. Napoleon was vaguely aware that his back was hitting the wall of the stall and that it was shaking dangerously, but he really, really did not care, because Illya’s hands were roaming over his back, one eventually settling against the back of Napoleon’s head, the other going lower, settling on his ass. And then he squeezed and the moan that escaped Napoleon’s throat rang painfully loud in the bathroom.

“God,” Napoleon panted against Illya’s neck, leaning forward, fully aware that Illya would hold him. As he mouthed at Illya’s neck just above the collar of his shirt, he let his hands slip under the suit jacket feeling the warmth of Illya’s skin underneath his fingertips through the shirt.

He kissed his way back up to Illya’s jaw, along the sharply drawn bone structure, up to his ear, nibbling at the earlobe, when Illya’s second hand came down to cup Napoleon’s ass and after another squeeze, that pulled another moan from Napoleon’s lips and left him half-hard Illya lifted him up as if Napoleon weighed nothing.

Quite the opposite was the case, but Napoleon instinctively wrapped his legs around Illya‘s middle. Breathlessly, he looked down at Illya. The sight was breath-taking – Illya looking up at him from underneath his lashes, his cheeks just a tiny bit blushed and his hair out of order. When Napoleon’s gaze fell to Illya’s lips, tender and flushed, he closed the distance between them. Illya bit his bottom lip, making Napoleon yelp with surprise, then ran his tongue over the mark, before continuing to claim Napoleon’s mouth as his.

Napoleon moved his hips against Illya, grinding up against him to relieve some of the frustration, of the longing for more, more. But Illya’s response was just to slam Napoleon into the wall, which snapped under their combined force and left Illya stumbling, clinging to the frame of the stall frantically, so as not to trip and bury Napoleon under him. The latter just barely landed on his feet, but his knees immediately gave in so that he ended up squatting on the bathroom floor in the midst of the remains of what had once been a respectable bathroom stall, giggling uncontrollable.

“Solo,” Illya said. “Are you okay?”

Npoleon closed his eyes and threw back his head.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah I’m okay. But, Peril,” his eyes snapped open to meet Illya’s, “We need to leave. I can’t go outside like this and… I _need_ you.”

Illya blushed even more and Napoleon snorted.

“You kiss me so hard that we ruin a whole bathroom and then you can’t take a mention of sex – with me – without blushing like a seventh-grader?”

Illya just frowned, cheeks still flushed and held out a hand.

“I suppose, is not safe for you to stay here, ruined bathroom and all?”

Napoleon needed a second before he understood, but then got up off the floor and nodded.

“No, yeah. Not safe at all we need to leave. Right now.”

And leave they did.

The drive home was mostly silent and Napoleon was pretty sure Illya went quite a bit over the speed limit but when they arrived and Illya’s eyes were dark and his accent somehow thicker, when he told Napoleon to ‘Hurry, god!’ Napoleon felt all his worries about safe driving dissipate.

The second they closed the apartment door behind them, they began to undress, leaving a trail of expensive clothes that should not be left in a trail on the floor, on their way to the bedroom.

“Napoleon,” Illya said, his voice so deeply charged with desire that Napoleon shivered, as he stepped closer.

Illya proceeded to run a hand through Napoleon’s hair, wrapping a strand around his fingers, letting go, before leaning in, whispering against his lips.

“I never knew you have curls.”

Napoleon nodded weakly, looking up into Illya’s eyes.

“Beautiful,” he almost growled, before he proceeded to kiss Napoleon again. It was slower this time, Napoleon felt small, protected, taken care of, but he needed more. He pushed Illya backwards onto the bed, straddling him, before he kissed him more intensely. Illya’s hands were back on his ass and Napoleon ground his hips down to get him to react, make a sound. And Illya did – he made the most possessive noise in the back of his throat, before pulling Napoleon down closer, making sure he knew who was in charge.

He felt like he was about to come just from kissing and grinding against Illya, so Napoleon eventually pulled back.

“Shit, Illya. I need your dick inside me now or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else I’m gonna have to start looking for somebody else.”

Illya did not like that. Before Napoleon even had time to smirk, he found himself flat on his back, Illya pulling down his briefs, discarding them behind him on the floor.

Illya threw Napoleon’s legs over his shoulders and when his tongue began circling his hole, Napoleon let out an entirely undignified whimper.

Illya slowly pushed in, his tongue warm, breath dangerously hot against Napoleon’s skin and all he could do was close his fists around handfuls of bedsheet and hold on while Illya ate him out.

Napoleon did not even try to hold back the moans, crying out in ecstasy while Illya brought him so close to the edge without even touching his dick.

“I meant – ah! – what I said about needing your – oh mmmh, god! – dick.”

“Is that so?” Illya came up from between Napoleon’s legs and suddenly he felt empty, desperate, even more so than before.

“Yeah,” Napoleon swallowed hard. “Let me,” he sat up and gestured for Illya to get back onto the bed.

Napoleon reached into the drawer of his nightstand and got out a bottle of lube and a condom.

Illya reached for it, but Napoleon pushed him away.

“Let me,” he repeated. Illya let himself fall backwards onto the bed; propped up on one elbow, he looked up at Napoleon.

“Hurry.”

And Napoleon did. He rolled the condom down Illya’s dick, giving it a couple of strokes, before he squeezed some lube into his palm and spread it with a few quick, practiced moves. When Napoleon moved to straddle Illya again. Reaching behind himself, he wrapped his fingers around Illya’s dick and positioned himself above. Illya’s hands came up to his hips, eyes locking with Napoleon while he slowly lowered himself onto Illya’s dick.

Napoleon breathed heavily, the stretch was a lot, it burned, but it was nothing he could not take. He almost welcomed it; nobody could replace Illya ever again. When Illya was fully inside him, Napoleon toom a moment to breathe, before moving his hips. Illya’s grip tightened, before one hand left Napoleon’s waist to pull him down into a kiss. But Napoleon had different plans. Indulging Illya for a second, he broke the kiss quickly.

“Come back,” Illya demanded and Napoleon was almost going to give in again, but then he lifted himself up and slowly lowered himself back onto Illya’s dick again, repeating the motion, picking up pace.

God, Napoleon had wanted this for weeks and months and now finally – _finally_ – he had Illya under him and his cock inside of him and his hands on his skin and –

“Concentrate.” Illya looked at him sternly but Napoleon saw his wavering restraint in those eyes.

“Why don’t you do the work?” Napoleon shot back between moans and Illya responded immediately. Without pulling out, he flipped Napoleon onto his back, towering above him and once more, Napoleon noticed that Illya was not only tall but also incredibly strong. A high-pitched gasp escaped his lips when Illya thrust into him once, hard and deep, hitting Napoleon’s prostate on the first try. It made Napoleon see stars and he almost missed Illya’s next words.

“Enough playing Cowboy, Napoleon. Let me make you remember this.”

Napoleon’s mind was foggy with arousal but he still managed to reply shakily.

“Oh. Yeah!”

Illya slammed into him again, then shifted to take hold of Napoleon’s wrists and pinned them into the mattress.

“Please,” Napoleon whimpered and he did not even know what he was asking for.

“What do you want?” Illya asked. His voice was so deep and he thrust into Napoleon once more and all he could think was to repeat his plea.

“Tell me,” Illya spoke into his ear, kissing along his neck, biting down, which made Napoleon cry out.

“More. Please, Illya.”

And Illya answered, increasing the speed of his thrusts, Hips hammering against Napoleon’s ass, the force of Illya’s movements shaking through Napoleon’s whole body. He knew with his entire limited consciousness, that nobody could even come close to fucking him like this.

Illya took both of Napoleon’s wrists into one hand, keeping them above Napoleon’s head, reaching down with the other to give Napoleon’s dick a stroke, another, and then he stopped.

Napoleon cried out with frustration.

“Please,” he found himself panting again.

“Tell me, Cowboy,” Illya said and the tone of voice paired with this admittedly strange nickname was nearly enough to make Napoleon come right there. But not quite.

“Let me come,” he whined, closing his eyes.

He cried out as Illya continued to slam into him, while jerking him off in sync, leaving Napoleon completely at his mercy.

Now, even Illya’s remarkable self-restraint did not hold up, his moans mixing with Napoleon’s. And when he leaned down to kiss Napoleon – open-mouthed and filthy – Napoleon came harder than he ever had before, hoarsely crying out, the sound swallowed by Illya immediately.

Napoleon was vaguely aware that Illya was still going, pumping into him, fast and irregular, and when his mind began to clear from the incredible high, Illya hit Napoleon’s oversensitive prostate one last time, as he buried himself deep in his ass, teeth digging into Napoleon’s shoulder.

“Fuck,” Napoleon whispered. “Peril really does suit you.”

Illya barely reacted, but his grip around Napoleon’s wrists loosened so that he could free his hands. He ran his fingers through Illya’s hair, smiling, because he had wanted this for so long, never thinking they would actually ever go this far. And yet they had. Napoleon was vaguely aware that he had some kind of feelings for Illya, but right now was not the time nor the place to worry about them. 

“Napoleon.”

“Hm?”

“Cowboy suits you too.”

Napoleon grinned.

“Why, thanks.”

“With bit of practice,” Illya mumbled into the dip of Napoleon’s neck.

“Hey!” He shoved at Illya’s head, but then closed the distance between them for a quick kiss.

“You’re rude but practice could help with that, too.”

Illya only pulled him in again.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeet!  
> I really hope there aren't any bad spelling/grammar/continuity errors in there cause I barely proof-read it.  
> Please comment and kudo, as always! Love you!


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